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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23432206">The Headmaster</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldensnitch18/pseuds/goldensnitch18'>goldensnitch18</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Strange Bedfellows [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, POV Pansy Parkinson, Professor Neville Longbottom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:55:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23432206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldensnitch18/pseuds/goldensnitch18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy can't stop thinking about the headmaster.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Strange Bedfellows [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1016469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Headmaster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pansy could see his penny loafers sticking out from beneath his robes. It was absolutely perfect, honestly, the way his hair fell across his forehead and his chin dimpled, and his body was hot as hell without his knowing. Pansy imagined he still thought of himself as that round little boy, lost outside the portrait, searching for the password. She imagined this, but she knew that boy was not him. It was laughable, really. </p>
<p>Neville Fucking Longbottom was the hottest damn professor Hogwarts had had in generations. Sod Lockhart. What a fucking idiot. But, Neville. Fuck. Even the thought of his tweed jackets made her … well. She pulled in her bottom lip and turned away from him. He was giving the start of term speech and she could feel her body responding to his voice, to his command, to the way everyone in the room was raptly hanging on his every word. She couldn't believe that this was her life. She was a bloody professor, and she was wet-as-fuck for Longbottom. Merlin's sagging tit. She was an idiot. Surely, she had lost her mind. </p>
<p>Pansy crossed her ankles, pressing her thighs together as Neville motioned towards the teachers at the table beside him. He was going to fucking kill her. She glared at the students. It was a good look for her. They responded well to it, rose to her high expectations. </p>
<p>Finally, mercilessly, Longbottom wrapped up the chatter and dismissed the students. Thank fuck. Pansy rose, quickly moving out of the Great Hall and towards her rooms. She was a fucking mess. One damn shag with Longbottom in the fucking Headmaster's office over the summer, and she was losing her mind. She couldn't think about anything but that damn meeting turned romp on his desk. She could hardly even recall the moments that proceeded it, but she could remember moaning. She could remember the feel of him inside of her. She could remember the sensation of his tongue on her neck, on her breasts, on the sensitive skin inside of her thighs. </p>
<p>Pansy whimpered. </p>
<p>Fuck. </p>
<p>She walked more quickly, her shoes echoing loudly off the stones. She needed to get away from the hall, away from Neville. She'd been avoiding him since that disaster of a day, but today she clearly had needed to do her damn job, which she apparently wasn't capable of doing. </p>
<p>"Professor!" Someone called behind her, and Pansy nearly missed a step. She steadied herself and turned around to face him. </p>
<p>"Yes, Headmaster?" she asked, trying to stop the blush rising in her face. </p>
<p>"I need to talk to you," he said seriously, his brow furrowed. "Could we…" he motioned towards a nearby door. Pansy looked at it for a full ten seconds before she nodded, not seeing a way out of this without telling him she was avoiding him. </p>
<p>She slipped into the classroom, and Neville shut the door behind him. He leaned back against it and smiled at her. "You're avoiding me." </p>
<p>"Uh … well, I've had quite a lot to do getting ready for the new term." She told him, raising a hand for emphasis. </p>
<p>"Yes, I know, but … well.” Neville’s eyes smiled. “I was hoping you might have enjoyed our last meeting."</p>
<p>Her knees seemed to lose some of their efficiency. "I did, Headmaster. Yes." </p>
<p>"And?" He moved forward, putting a hand on her elbow. </p>
<p>"And?" she repeated, unable to process any thought beyond that she was obsessed with the way the facial hair he had let grow over the summer seemed to make him look wise. </p>
<p>"I want to meet again, Pansy," he said softly. "Again and Again." </p>
<p>She couldn't help it. She leaned into him, betraying every part of her that was yelling for her to run. "You're my boss." </p>
<p>Neville leaned back against one of the desks, keeping the space between them large and open. It was nearly worse than if he was touching her. “Do you want me as badly as I want you?” he asked. She blushed further, amazed that he could ask such a question without looking embarrassed. </p>
<p>She took a deep breath, drawing in whatever courage her non-courageous heart could muster. “I do,” she admitted. </p>
<p>"Then, we'll find someone else for you to report to," he said as if he could fix this little detail without a moment of inconvenience. As if … perhaps … he had already planned for it. </p>
<p>“Longbottom…” </p>
<p>And then he did move. He strode towards her in long purposeful steps. His hand landed on her waist pulling her closer, as if it was even necessary, and then he kissed her, his mouth claiming hers in a soft fervor, heat and something she didn’t think she quite understood bubbled in her chest. He kissed her languidly, taking his time in tasting her mouth, in carving a path down her neck. </p>
<p>When he reached her ear, he breathed softly for a moment, and then he whispered, “Parkinson, I’ve wanted you naked on my desk for ages.” And, she melted against him. </p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
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